


The Fireplace

by things_that_matter



Series: CMBYN: Life with Ollie [41]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Brothers, Cold Weather, Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fireplaces, Intimacy, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/things_that_matter/pseuds/things_that_matter
Summary: Ollie is cold. Elio is determined to build a fire, something that Oliver usually does.
Relationships: Oliver & Elio Perlman
Series: CMBYN: Life with Ollie [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094873
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	The Fireplace

**Author's Note:**

> I’m southern and am not accustomed to this single degree, negative windchill nonsense. This story is semi-autobiographical.

Elio was deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. The room around him, and all of the furniture, even the people and pets in the house, ceased to exist. Elio was deep in the heart of darkness. So, when he suddenly felt a small, very cold, hand patting his arm, he was startled. He was so startled, in fact, that he dropped his book, making Ollie giggle. 

Elio smiled and poked his little brother in the stomach, making him giggle even more. “What’s up, Ollie?” He asked the giggling seven-year-old. 

Ollie seemed to suddenly remember why he needed Elio. His giggling was immediately replaced by a glorious pout. “I’m cold,” he whined. 

“Cold, huh?” Elio grabbed the little boy and pulled him onto his lap, wrapping both arms around him. 

Ollie nodded, trying not to smile. Smiling wouldn’t further his cause. “Yeah. I’m real cold,” he reiterated. 

Elio stretched an arm over to the sofa and pulled off a blanket, throwing it over himself and Ollie. “Better?” he asked, rubbing his hands briskly over Ollie’s upper arms. 

Ollie shook his head. “I’m still cold,” he reported. 

Elio thought about what to do. They had been experiencing a cold front that had brought not only several inches of snow, but also windchills in the negatives. Though the heat was running around the clock, it was still colder inside than either of them would prefer. 

“Should we self clean the oven again?” Elio suggested. 

“No that barely helps,” Ollie sulked. 

Elio smiled. “Barely means it does help though,” he pointed out. 

Ollie wrinkled his nose. “It’s stinky and it only helps a tiny bit,” he complained. 

Elio turned his eyes toward the ceiling, tapped his chin. “Should we play chess in the bathroom with the space heater on?” he suggested. 

Ollie sighed dramatically. “We did that yesterday,” he whined. 

Elio could tell he was about to get fussy. “Ollie, I know it’s not as warm as we like it, but we should be thankful we have heat. Put your coat on,” Elio said. 

Ollie stood still as a statue, no particular facial expression, but Elio saw tears fill his eyes. “Ollie, please don’t cry,” he gently said. 

As if cued, the tears fell. Elio sighed. 

“What do you want to do? Do you want to go lay in my bed and we can watch a movie on the laptop?” It was the last thing he could think of. 

“Can’t you make a fire?” Ollie asked. 

_ Damn it, _ Elio silently cursed himself. Why had he asked for suggestions. “Oliver will be back soon,” Elio tried.

Ollie frowned. “Nuh-uh. He won’t be back for a long time,” he complained. 

“Well when he gets here, he will build us a fire.” Elio promised. “I don’t really do fires, okay?”

“Yeah but I’m cold now,” Ollie pointed out. He could see Elio thinking it over. “Pleeeease?” he begged in his cutest little brother voice. 

Elio tilted his head from side to side, considering. “Okay, fine,” he said. When he saw the smile light up Ollie’s face, he felt anything was possible. Maybe he’d even succeed. 

Ollie threw the blanket off of himself and Elio, stood, and bounced up and down. 

“Slow down Kermit, are you bouncing because you’re excited, or because you’re cold?” Elio wanted to know. 

“Both!” Ollie answered, predictably. 

“Put your coat on; I’ll bring in some wood,” Elio instructed, and Ollie took off. 

Later they stood, looking at the beautiful logs in the fireplace. Elio threw in another match, which died with a quick, harmless sizzle just as the others had done. 

“Can I try?” Ollie asked. 

Elio scoffed. “Yeah right. I’ll let my seven-year-old baby brother play with matches.” 

Ollie scoffed, a nice impersonation of Elio, “What difference does it make? They just go out anyway.”

Elio sent some side eye Ollie’s way. 

“What?” Ollie asked innocently. When Elio didn’t answer, he asked, “Do you think the logs are flame resistant?” 

Elio wasn’t sure if Ollie was kidding. “I think we were supposed to put some paper in it,” Elio said, remembering. 

“I’m on it!” Ollie said, running to the recycling bin. After fifteen minutes of wadding paper and tucking it between the logs, they were ready to try again. This time, when Elio threw in the match, the fire started. 

Ollie bounced up and down, out of some combination of excitement and cold. “You did it, Elio!!” 

Elio picked Ollie up and bounced with him, as he too was now excited and cold. But as they celebrated, the fire died. 

“What?!” they both said. 

It didn’t take long to diagnose the problem. “The paper burned, but the logs didn’t,” Elio observed. 

“Why doesn’t that happen when Oliver makes the fire?” Ollie queried. 

Elio rolled his eyes. “Maybe we should use an accelerant,” he wondered aloud. 

“What’s that?” Ollie asked. 

“Like gasoline or something,” Elio said. 

Ollie’s eyes grew huge. “Oliver doesn’t use sellerents,” Ollie stated confidently. 

But Elio was already walking toward the kitchen.

Ollie was on his heels like a little Jiminy Cricket, “Elio, Oliver don’t use…” he began, but his voice trailed off as he realized he was being ignored. 

“Maybe this will work,” Elio said, holding the bourbon they kept hidden away for special occasions. And this felt like a special occasion. Elio had made it this far, he  _ had _ to get the fire going now. 

Back in the living room, Elio splashed some bourbon on the logs. He was careful not to use too much. 

Ollie looked on, intrigued. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Oh, this?” Elio shrugged casually. “It’s accelerant.”

Ollie nodded. “Oh good. I thought it was Oliver’s favorite bourbon,” he said, sounding relieved. 

Elio cast more side eye Ollie’s way, but he didn’t notice. He was reaching for the matches, which Elio held out of his reach. “Ready? One… two… three…” Elio struck the match and tossed it in. They both held their breath, but nothing happened. At least with the paper, they got a brief glimpse of fire. But with this, the logs acted as if he’d slowed them with water rather than accelerant. 

He stood, staring in utter disbelief. As he was thinking of what to try next, he suddenly heard a key in the front door, followed by the familiar sounds of Oliver coming home. “Hello!” Oliver called. Elio and Ollie called back to him, and could hear him putting his keys in the bowl, and hanging his coat in the front closet. 

Moments later, Oliver entered the room with a warm smile, happy to see his favorite people. His smile changed to a twisted smile of confusion though, when he saw Elio and Ollie at the fireplace. 

Ollie ran to him, hugging him tightly. “Elio can’t make a fire and I’m cold,” he explained. He was trying not to whine. 

Oliver picked him up. “Oh no! You’re cold? We had better fix that,” he replied. Then he leaned down to kiss Elio, too. 

“Let’s see,” Oliver said as he knelt down to study the fireplace. “Not too bad. Just need to rearrange… where’s the kindling? And why does it smell like bourbon?”

Elio looked over at Ollie, eyes wide, finger over lips. Shhhhh, he seemed to say. 

“It’s not bourbon. Don’t worry. It’s just sellerent,” Ollie explained. 

Oliver stopped rearranging the logs, looked over his shoulder, and stared at Elio in disbelief. “Well, you’re resourceful. Can’t build a fire, but resourceful.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been writing a new story about Ollie and Elio’s relationship before the tragedy. It convers the accident, the discussion about what to do, and Ollie’s first days with Elio and Oliver. I didn’t put it in this series because it’s quite long and the mood is much different. If you’re interested, check it out. [Life Before Ollie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467059/chapters/72382011)


End file.
